


Six Times

by quigonejinn



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, S2E09 - Party Guessed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-25
Updated: 2012-07-25
Packaged: 2017-11-10 16:36:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/468412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quigonejinn/pseuds/quigonejinn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>There is dirt under her fingernails; there are scratches on her knuckles that sting when she isn't looking at them.  </i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Six Times

**Author's Note:**

> Seriously, I am not kidding about the non-con. It's Peter/Lydia set in the context of S2E09, Party Guessed. There is no part of this that is consensual or fun for Lydia.

1\. 

The field. 

2\. 

In her bed. The sheets feel like grave dirt under her feet, and when she gets up afterwards, takes a shaky breath, and turns off the alarm clock, she turns back to the bed and lifts up the covers: no dirt. She steps into the shower. There is dirt under her fingernails; there are scratches on her knuckles that sting when she isn't looking at them. 

3\. 

At the department, after school, picking up a few things, checking the racks and doing a little pre-pre-birthday shopping. Allison is busy doing something else, _whatever else_ , and Lydia goes alone. She brings an armful of things up to the counter, and in between a gorgeous Rag-and-Bone dress and this gray flannel crop blazer, there is a gold dress. Not too long. With -- 

_You should wear it home_ , he says, leaning his elbows against the counter next to the girl. 

"I'll wear it home," Lydia says. It isn't a question of hearing herself say it: she feels the muscles in her throat tense and relax to make the sounds. She feels the corners of her mouth pull together for the _w_ in _wear_ and she feels her tongue brush the top of her mouth for the _t_ in _it_. She almost wants to say it. 

The cashier lifts her eyebrows because it isn't a dress for Wednesday afternoon, walking to your car in the shopping mall, but crazy is as crazy does as crazy has an Amex gold card, so she cuts the tags off, and Lydia takes a deep breath and takes everything back to the dressing room. The dress doesn't go with her heels. It doesn't go with her hair. It makes her feel nauseous even stepping into it, and her hands are too shaky to bring the zipper all the way up. She pulls it halfway up her back, puts her coat on over it, and hopes it'll hold long enough to get her to the car -- she spends a few minutes in the dressing room, holding still in the middle of the mirrors with her fists balled at her sides, hoping this is all he wants. 

He doesn't show. 

Instead, he is back in the car. Lydia gets the backs in the trunk, opens the driver's door and sits down. She's reaching for the seatbelt when she turns and sees him in the passenger's seat. His hair is combed back in the way it is; he smells like fresh dirt. 

_Slide your hand up your thigh, Lydia._ He leans over and brings his mouth close to her neck. He breathes deep; he reaches over to check how high up her hand is and moves it higher.

 _I see you left your underwear back in the dressing room._

He kisses her neck. 

_You're beautiful._

They're in the parking lot of a Macy's in broad daylight. 

4\. 

Where are her parents? Where are her parents? There are bills piling on the floor, letters and voicemails she can't answer. She can't remember the last time she saw Prada; she can't think of the last time she went into the master bathroom. She has been reading the same paragraph in _Additive Combinatorics_ all night. 

5\. 

They're in the empty chemistry classroom, and Lydia pulls Stiles to her. He looks at her for a long, stunned second, and then, she kisses him. His mouth tastes like milk and chicken tenders and barbeque sauce: lunch in the cafeteria, and he makes a noise when she slides her hand under his shirt. He makes another when she undoes the button on his jeans, then unzips the fly. 

"Lydia, this isn't -- " His eyes are very, very wide and very, very dark. He licks his lips. "This is really a terrible idea." 

"Eye contact is key," Lydia says, feeling her tongue brush the top of her mouth twice for each _t_ in _contact_. She kisses him again, then leans back on the lab bench and pulls him to her.

Lydia wakes in math class, which is two periods after lunch; her textbook is in front of her, and her notebook is filled with doodled notes she took on the chapter on Behrend's example from _Additive Combinatorics_. She tries to assess whether she really fucked Stiles in the empty chemistry room. 

Yes: he won't look her in the eye and is kind of staring down at his feet. Stiles is weird around her, but not that kind of weird usually. 

No: there's something running down the inside of her leg. Stiles wouldn't be stupid enough to fuck her without a condom, would he? 

6\. 

Back on the field, and they're on the grass. The ground is damp and cold on her knees, but only when she thinks about it, which is how Lydia knows that this is in her head, and she isn't actually on the lacrosse field at midnight with her shirt unbuttoned and her skirt hitched up to her waist and her panties stuffed in her mouth. The flood lights are on, but nobody is in the stands. 

Her copy of _Additive Combinatorics_ is on the grass next to them. He put it on the ground; it disappears when she doesn't looking directly at it. In fact, she can see it wink out of existence when her eyes focus on a blade of grass, lacrosse goal, the headlights of a car passing on the road north of the field. Peter touches the back of her neck. 

"Do you want to turn over?" he says. 

Lydia is shaking, but she feels him lift some of his weight off her, so she knows what the answer should be. She turns over and lies down on her back, facing Peter. He touches her neck, then her collarbones, then her breasts. He takes her underwear out of her mouth and puts it on the grass next to her book. 

"Remember," he says. "You're intelligent."

"Eye contact is key," Lydia replies, and she tries and tries and tries not to close her eyes or look away.

**Author's Note:**

>  _Additive Combinatorics_ is a real textbook by Terence Tao and Van H. Vu. Tao won the Fields medal in 2006. 
> 
> All lines about eye contact are [destronomics's work](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/destronomics). So is the line about the master bathroom. This is so totally her fault.


End file.
